Panem Et Circuses
by Suz Singer
Summary: A small collection of oneshots that take place between 'If I Had A Heart' and its upcoming sequel 'Saltwater Sting'. From the POV of Katniss, Peeta, Finnick, Pyrhhus and Plutarch Heavensbee. Winnow and Cato appear/mentioned. Foreshadowing for sequel. SEQUEL TO IF I HAD A HEART.
1. Chapter 1

betaread by gkmoberg1

**All Eyes** by **Imagine Dragons**

_Everything you say_

_Is just a lie_

_And now I'm leaving_

_To the city where the people_

_Are awake to chase a dream_

_That isn't real_

_And we're supposed to be something_

_That we're not_

**Panem et Circuses**

**Chapter 1**

_Victors Interview_

Peeta Mellark took a deep breath before walking onstage. The audience's reaction to his presence was instantaneous and overwhelming. The only thing he could hear over the roar of the crowd was his heart beating in his ears. He wondered if the crowd would be this happy – or happier, even – if it had been Winnow or Cato climbing onto this stage.

He answered Caesar Flickerman's questions distractedly – all he could think of right now was Katniss. He hadn't seen her since they had been taken from the arena. The Capitol had separated them in order to have their reunion caught on television. Peeta couldn't think until he saw Katniss. And finally here she came.

The smile on her lips was pretty enough, he supposed. But Peeta could see the strain, see that it was fake. It was clear Katniss had been coached – but Peeta was glad to see genuine relief in her eyes when they rested on him.

It was hard to believe they had just won the Hunger Games. That they were the two left standing out of twenty-four other children – and it was doubtful that they deserved it the most. Peeta couldn't help but think of poor Cato, poor Winnow – the two he really did believe were in love.

Katniss sat down beside Peeta, her hand slipping into his. The small, warm contact reassured Peeta of her presence and her safety. It brought him instant clarity. Everything was brighter – warmer, and sharper. He could actually focus on Caesar's face, now. The contact even calmed the dull roar in Peeta's ears.

"How did you feel when you found him by the river?" the shockingly blue-haired host asked Katniss.

This was the sort of question that they had both been prepared for. "I felt like the happiest person in the world," Katniss said airily. It was a struggle for Peeta to keep his expression straight – she didn't really speak like that. It wasn't her. It wasn't true. "I couldn't imagine life without him."

_There_. That was true. The brunette turned to look at Peeta with a certain sort of glimmer in her eye – those words she meant. She squeezed his hand, coaxing a smile onto Peeta's lips. "And what about you, Peeta?" Caesar prompted.

"She saved my life." Peeta said simply. He told them everything before the games had started. None of that had changed.

"We saved each other." Katniss added, turning an adoring gaze towards the blond.

"Ladies and gentleman, the star-crossed lovers from District 12 – this year's Victors of the 74th Annual Hunger Games." Caesar narrated, prompting a roar of applause from the audience.

Katniss relaxed beside Peeta, thinking this was the end of their interview – but the host opened his mouth to speak again. "I have one last question for you two…" Caesar began. The screens behind him flashed with images of Cato and Winnow – innocent depictions of the two smiling, laughing. Peeta flinched as if he had been struck.

"Winnow Fontanne and Cato Elestren were your biggest competitors in the arena – and you had a lot in common," he added. The screens behind Caesar shifted to moments of the final Career pair in moments of intimacy. Cato and Winnow sleeping curled underneath a tree, the two kissing by a creek in the wheat field – the Victors looked away.

"How must it feel – Katniss, Peeta – to know that Winnow and Cato wanted what you have so very badly – something they could _never_ have, and know you took it from them?" Caesar questioned them.

Peeta was blindsided by the question, glancing to Katniss. She had never really believed that Cato and Winnow had really cared about one another – she was convinced that they had been faking it for the sponsors. Peeta had seen it firsthand – he had seen the affection between them.

But as Katniss watched the images on the screen, she started to believe it. The emotion on Cato and Winnow's faces was so real – so raw, hope draining from their eyes as time wore on. Katniss took a deep breath, tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Of course we wish things could have been different... But Peeta and I were determined to survive. And somehow, we managed to. And I'll never stop being grateful for that." she remarked.

Peeta took a deep breath before speaking up. "Cato and Winnow were one of a kind… as competitors and as allies-"

"Ah, yes, you were allied briefly before your true allegiance was made clear," Caesar interrupted. The screen behind him showed a moment of confrontation – when Cato had stabbed Peeta in the leg. They didn't shut off the footage before Winnow's scream echoed throughout the arena and Cato had abandoned Peeta in order to go to her aid. "None of us knew you could be so treacherous, Peeta," Caesar said slyly.

Peeta shook his head, feeling guilt coil in the pit of his belly. Katniss' hand squeezing his was a great comfort in that moment. "I had nothing against Cato or Winnow. I had nothing against any of them, really. But I needed to protect Katniss. I knew I would do anything. Even if it meant tricking her and the Careers." he explained.

"The Careers were not convinced by you, Peeta. It was Winnow and Cato that kept you alive then," Caesar pointed out.

"No, it was Winnow. Cato would have liked nothing more than to kill me," Peeta corrected irritably.

The expression on the host's face told the Victors that that was something he had already known – and only needed Peeta to say it. "And you _betrayed_ her," Caesar said softly. The audience quieted for a moment, ears straining to hear what Peeta's reply would be.

The blond's face darkened, his strong brow creasing. Katniss stared at him in disbelief – all of this was knowledge she hadn't known before. _Winnow had helped him?_

"Yeah, I did. She helped me and I betrayed her. Katniss may have been the one to hold the bow, but as far as I'm concerned, Winnow's blood is on my hands. I regret it, I truly do. But Katniss and I are alive, and I can't ask for more." Peeta said harshly. He refused to say another word – forcing Katniss to answer a few more questions before they were finally released from this torturous ambush they called an interview.

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><p><strong>AN: Welcome to Panem Et Circuses! Seven chapters that will lead straight into Saltwater Sting!  
><strong>

**Winnow and Cato will not be in this installment, but they are mentioned a lot. They _will_ be in Saltwater Sting.**

**Please Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

Betaread by gkmoberg1

**The Grey **by **Icon For Hire**

_I am standing on the edge of returning or just running away_

_I am letting myself look the other way_

_And the hardest part of this is I don't think I know my way back home_

_Is it worth the journey or do I let my heart settle here?_

**Chapter 2**

_Katniss & Peeta on train back to District 12_

Katniss Everdeen tossed and turned in her bed, eyes shut tight and mouth pulled into a frown. She was caught in the throes of a nightmare – and it wasn't the first.

_"KATNISS EVERDEEN, THE BITCH ON FIRE!" a gritty, feminine voice shouted – full of anger, resentment – and just plain hatred. "GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!"_

_"No freakin' way." Katniss muttered in reply, holding on to the tree she perched in as a lifeline. Another dark haired girl paced beneath the tree, an arrow sprouted from her chest. A hulking blond boy stood a few steps back from her – curiously intact except for an arrow through his hand – his grey eyes never leaving Katniss._

_"You **little** coward!" Winnow Fontanne shrieked, tearing at her own hair. "Come down here so I can kill you!" she demanded._

_"Winnow," Cato Elestren said quietly, taking a step towards his lover. "Calm down." he cautioned._

_Winnow slapped away his comforting hand. "No! No, Cato! She killed us! She deserves to die! She deserves to suffer!" she argued hysterically. "She needs to understand what she took from us!" With those words, the blond objected no more._

_Katniss closed her eyes, leaning her head against the tree trunk – trying to ignore the obscenities screamed at her by someone she had killed. A dull pain throbbed in her chest. "You will listen to what we have to say, you **stupid** bitch!" Winnow demanded – angry enough to even try and scale the tree._

_"You owe us that much." Cato added dryly. Those were the words that made Katniss open her eyes and look down at them. "Do you truly understand what you did to us?" he asked her solemnly – as he placed his hand on Winnow's shoulder._

_"You – you – pretended to be in love with Peeta! **We** were the ones really in love! Not you! But you stole our chance! Our chance to be happy!" Winnow sputtered – overcome with emotion. Tears spilled from her pale eyes._

_Katniss already knew this. She had watched every moment of their Games since the disastrous interviews. She knew just how desperately in love Winnow and Cato had been – and she had killed them. Callously. Left them to suffer._

_And Katniss? She wasn't in love with Peeta. He was in love with her, she knew that. She cared about him, yes. But could she call that love? No._

_"You waited so long to put me out of my misery." Cato said suddenly. Winnow turned to him with frantic eyes. He shook his head at her. "You waited all night. Let the Mutts chew on me for hours and hours before you showed me an ounce of mercy. You knew I wouldn't die, couldn't die, but you waited." he reminded her quietly, his gaze turning to Winnow._

_Cato brushed the girl's cheek affectionately, before turning a burning gaze to Katniss. "You should have killed me when you killed her! At least I wouldn't have suffered!" he snarled suddenly._

_ "We'll kill you and Lover-boy," Winnow said lowly._

_"You might think you're safe." Cato murmured. "But you're not."_

_"We will find a way. You will **feel** our pain." Winnow promised. And then suddenly the tree was falling and Katniss was screaming._

"Katniss! Katniss!" Peeta called, shaking the girl by the shoulders. She had been thrashing and calling out in her sleep. A nightmare again, it seemed. Her nails raked his am before her eyes finally opened.

"Peeta?" Katniss asked in confusion. Her arms stilled at her sides, allowing the blond to cradle her.

"You were having a nightmare," Peeta reminded her. She gave a slow nod. "What was it this time?" he asked tiredly.

"Winnow and Cato… they were going to kill us," Katniss whimpered, burying her head in Peeta's sleep-shirt.

Peeta sighed. "They're dead, Katniss. We're safe." he reminded her hollowly.

Katniss shook her head. "They said they would find a way," she argued.

"A way around death? It seems pretty final," Peeta joked half-heartedly. The mere mention of those two made his heart ache.

"I know it's stupid," she said. "But they deserve revenge on us, Peeta…"

The blond nodded shortly. "I know that." he said, hoping to end the conversation.

Katniss fisted the cloth in her hands. "Cato suffered _so_ long… I took Winnow away from him, and then left him in pain for _hours_ as the Mutts tore into him," she whimpered.

"I have my own guilt to worry about, not to mention yours," Peeta muttered, pulling away from the brunette. Katniss merely held on, looking up to him in confusion. "Winnow asked me to join them in _training_, Katniss. She knew the whole time who I was loyal to, but she still helped me." Peeta explained after a moment. "And what did I do in return? Made her and the one she loved suffer. Die." he laughed bitterly.

"She played you all along, Peeta. She was only trying to kill _me_." Katniss protested.

"I know that." Peeta said in irritation. "But she still _helped_ me. Even when she was suffering. Winnow… she could be so kind." he whispered, mind far away.

"Kind? Ha." Katniss laughed – at the thought of that fierce girl who had held only malice for her.

"When she wanted to be." Peeta defended. "Just like you." he reminded Katniss, whose face scrunched up in anger. "No. Don't. You were crying just a minute ago about how guilty you felt, but now that I say how I feel, you don't agree." he scoffed – cutting her off before she could begin.

"Peeta, I…" the brunette began, regretfully.

He waved her away. "She understood, Katniss. She tried so hard to protect her district partner, and he was killed in the bloodbath by someone she was supposed to be allied with. She might have hated you – and she _really_ did – but she _still_ helped me. And I'll never forget that." he said, silencing her.

He lay back down on the bed, turning his face away from Katniss. She looked down at him, unsure of what to do. After a few moments, Peeta held out his arm for her to curl into. A quiet gesture that showed Katniss that he was not angry with her. Merely with himself.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm really impressed with the response to the first chapter - Thank you so much! I only hope you keep it up. **


	3. Chapter 3

Betaread by gkmoberg1

**Bleeding Out **by**Imagine Dragons**

_When the day has come_

_That I've lost my way around_

_And the seasons stop and hide beneath the ground_

_When the sky turns gray_

_And everything is screaming_

_I will reach inside_

_Just to find my heart is beating_

**Panem et Circuses**

**Chapter 3**

_Pyrrhus Reed & Finnick Odair – District Four_

"Why are we here?" Finnick questioned irritably. His arms were crossed over his chest stubbornly – refusing to take another step towards the hovel only a short walk from one of the district's many beaches.

Pyrrhus Reed – dressed uncharacteristically simple in a pair of casual slacks and an off-white shirt with the slightest tinge of red – wrung his hands together. "This is Winnow's home." He answered reluctantly. He looked away from Finnick's expression of betrayal to the red paint on his fingernails.

"Why are we here?" Finnick repeated through gritted teeth. He was already backing away – the dark circles beneath his eyes becoming more prominent as the lighting shifted.

"Because Winnow left her things to us." Pyrrhus said with a trembling voice.

Finnick didn't answer – merely turning his back on the Capitolian and walking away. "Finnick, please!" Pyrrhus pleaded, stumbling after him and catching the Victor's arm. Finnick fixed him with a murderous look, making Pyrrhus release him hastily. "It was her _last_ wish, Finnick." he said, a tear leaking from the corner of the Capitolian's eye. He reached up to wipe it away quickly.

Finnick turned back towards the Escort – and his friend. It was the first time he noticed how very disheveled the normally polished Pyrrhus Reed looked. His hair was uncombed and the brilliant red dye was beginning to fade. The nail polish on his fingers was chipped and his clothes were un-ironed and untucked. "I'm not ready," Finnick said weakly, looking down to the sand beneath his feet.

Pyrrhus placed his hand on the Victor's shoulder. "I had hoped to wait, too. But the landlord called and said he could not afford to hold the shack out of respect for her. There are new tenants waiting." he explained.

"I had hoped we would be able to do this _with_ Winnow. To move her into a house in Victor's Village." Finnick said quietly. Pyrrhus patted his shoulder again.

"I as well. But this was her wish. And I would see it done." the Capitolian said firmly. "And to let anyone else do this… no-one knew Winnow like we did." he added with a shiver of dread. Pyrrhus trusted no-one else to do this task – he was sure anyone else would not show the respect due.

"No-one alive, at least." Finnick agreed half-heartedly. With a grumble, the Victor set forward towards the tiny shack, reaching for the door handle. The flimsy door came open with hardly a jiggle – following a metal click that indicated the door had been locked. Finnick turned back towards Pyrrhus with a set frown before pushing inside.

Winnow's home was cozy – and tidy, they had to give her that. As tidy as a dirt floor and three months of neglect could be. Her bed was nothing but a straw-stuffed cot in the corner, draped with plenty of worn and stained blankets. Finnick stood and stared – trying to take it all in before it was disturbed.

Pyrrhus slipped past the stationary Victor and began to peruse the surroundings. There were precious few items of furniture – the cot, a small table and several wood crates. Most of the wood crates contained items like clothing and blankets, and tools Winnow likely used for work.

But one crate was up-ended – with old school supplies shoved inside. Pyrrhus thought it likely that Winnow had done it so she would not have to look at her school things again – when she had been forced to quit school. Atop that crate was a picture frame.

Pyrrhus picked up the picture frame, peering at the picture. He clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes filling with tears again. "Finnick," he squeaked, drawing the other man's attention. Finnick wandered over, plucking the picture from Pyrrhus' hand. He stared at it for a long moment, his lips pursing. "Have you _ever_ seen her so happy?" Pyrrhus asked, wiping at his eyes.

"No." Finnick answered hoarsely. The picture – the only picture Winnow had – depicted a young woman with her arms around a younger, happier Winnow. "That must be her sister," he suggested, pointing to the other woman. The two women shared their sharp features and pale eyes, but Genna had hair that leaned towards auburn, rather than the inky black hair that Winnow boasted.

But Winnow's hair was different in this picture, too. While not as light as her sister's, there was a definite bronze tone to her nearly waist-length locks. "She looks so different…" Pyrrhus murmured, tracing the edge of the photograph lovingly. Finnick had to agree.

Her skin wasn't quite so dark – meaning that she hadn't started working on the boats yet, still sheltered under the care of Genna. She wasn't as tall or lean – the opposite, really. While the Winnow they had known was all muscle and bone, the young Winnow in the picture still bore some baby fat – it rounded her face and arms – covering her sharp facial features and lending her a cherubic countenance.

"Do you see who else is in the photograph?" Finnick asked, turning a half-smile towards the other man.

Pyrrhus leaned in closer, eyes nearly pressed against the frame. "Kai!" he gasped. The other District Four tribute in the 74th Hunger Games was there too, in the background. It was before he had grown tall, but his arms had already grown quite long and his ears quite big. He laughed with other teenagers his age – blissfully unaware of the photographer just a few feet away – and the fate that would befall him in just a few years.

The Capitolian lost interest after a few moments – resuming his search for something significant – something that meant something to Winnow. Finnick kept his gaze on the photograph for another long moment. "Would you mind… if I kept this?" he asked.

Pyrrhus glanced up, surprised that he had even asked. "Of course not. A photograph is something I couldn't keep, anyway. A photograph could send the wrong message to my employers." he answered. His meaning was clear. If Pyrrhus showed any favoring for a tribute – alive or dead – he could be subject to suspicion. And he did his best work under the radar.

Finnick nodded. "But any trinket, really…" he wondered out loud.

The Capitolian nodded. "Officially… I am here only to remove Winnow's things. As Escort to District Four, it is my duty to attend to everything. But if I can find something to remember her by… it is a souvenir that I bought." Pyrrhus explained as he went through one of the crates. "Ah, here's something." he murmured, dragging a hand up from the bottom of the crate.

In his hand was a delicate jewelry box inlaid with seashells. On the bottom was a small inscription. _To my Lorraine_. "Her mother." Pyrrhus said to Finnick's questioning look. "Its beautiful." he added.

"Then you've found your souvenir." Finnick said with a sad smile. The Capitolian's bottom lip trembled, but he nodded nonetheless.

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><p><strong>I'm over the moon with your support. Thank you so much. You've all given me the confidence to actually pursue original work - once I'm done with this story, that is. <strong>

**Please keep reviewing. This one should get ya. Love, Suz.**


	4. Chapter 4

**No Church in the Wild **by**Kanye West**

_Human beings in a mob_

_What's a mob to a king?_

_What's a king to a god?_

_What's a god to a non-believer?_

_Who don't believe in anything?_

**Panem et Circuses**

**Chapter 4**

_The Capitol_

Plutarch Heavensbee was guided to a seat by an Avox. He settled into the cushioned chair carefully, clasping his hands in his lap. He had been invited for tea to the lush, palatial home of the one and only President Coriolanus Snow.

The tyrant was not in the sitting room Plutarch had been shown into. He wasn't sure how long the old man would make him wait. But he did know that Snow did everything for a reason – to achieve certain desired effects. Plutarch was determined to stay calm and patient – to cheat Snow of his preferred outcome.

Snow entered the room after only five minutes – a vase of white roses in his liver-spotted, frail hands. "Good afternoon, Plutarch," he greeted genially, crossing the room to place the arrangement on the coffee table near the Game-maker.

"President Snow," Plutarch said pleasantly in response.

The old man smiled and shook his head, sinking into the chair opposite the other man. "Come now, Plutarch. We have known each other long enough to disregard such formalities," Snow chastised.

"As you wish, Coriolanus," Plutarch responded, a smile rising on his lips. "May I ask why I was invited here today?" he added.

Snow gestured to an Avox, snapping his fingers and pointing to the coffee table. "Can I not simply wish to have tea with an old friend?" Coriolanus asked innocently.

Plutarch shook his head as an Avox carried over a tea-set, placing the clattering tray of china on the coffee table. "Not you, Coriolanus. There's always something else." He responded. A smile lifted his lips – careful to stay positive.

Coriolanus waved the Avox away when she began to pour the tea – preferring instead to do it himself. "You take it with two sugars, correct?" the old man asked as he poured the steaming liquid into two delicate teacups.

"Yes." Plutarch answered simply.

Snow dropped two sugar-cubes into one of the teacups and slid it across the table so that it was within Plutarch's reach. "I did want to inquire after your plan. I was… curious as to how it was coming," Coriolanus admitted.

Plutarch plucked the teacup from its dish and took a sip. "Ah." the man hummed, his sharp eyes watching the tyrant add one sugar-cube and a slice of lemon to his own tea. He waited for Snow to settle back and take a sip of his tea before Plutarch began to speak. "It is going as well as we could have hoped. We _are_ still ironing out some crinkles."

"Crinkles?" Coriolanus raised an eyebrow.

Plutarch set his teacup down on the saucer, wiping his mouth on his handkerchief. "Many of the subjects are… feeble. Their emotions are subdued." he explained.

Coriolanus dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief as well. The pristine white fabric came back blood-spattered – but the old man deftly turned over the fabric so Plutarch wouldn't see. It didn't matter much – Snow's condition was no secret – at least to Plutarch. "Then concoct a new strain of steroids. It will take care of both problems." Snow suggested.

Plutarch furrowed his brows. "That will have adverse long-term effects,"

"Good." Snow remarked. At the expression of confusion on the other man's face, he explained further. "If and only if your subjects fulfill their purpose – they will be released – as promised. And they _will_ have an expiration date. They won't have enough time to become a liability to us."

The Head Game-maker steepled his fingers, eyes watching the President warily.

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><p>Plutarch Heavensbee strolled along in his lab – arms crossed behind his back and scientists scurrying around him. On either side of him were two rows of twelve blue-lit glass tanks. Within each tank a body was suspended – tubes and wires connecting each subject to a screen in front of their tank.<p>

The screens showed the subjects' vitals and endless information on their physical and mental capacity. Plutarch ended his stroll at the final two glass tanks – the two marked '12'. He glanced from one to the other.

The first tank marked '12' bore a male subject – tall and muscular with short blond hair and grey eyes. The second subject was female – with dark hair and sharp features. They were kept unconscious, with scientists carefully monitoring their neural activity.

_'Soon…'_ Plutarch thought. '_Soon you will be awake and forced through another horror. I hope for all our sakes that you survive it,'_ He turned, drawing the attention of one of the scientists.

The scientist that came to Plutarch's side was a woman called Theta Yule – who bore short, silver hair and golden eyes. She had high cheekbones that had been surgically altered till they looked sharp enough to cut. "President Snow has suggested that we create a new strain of steroids. To solve the problem of the subjects' strength and stabilize their emotions." Plutarch told her.

Theta furrowed her brows and pursed her lips – making her already severe expression even more foreboding. "Steroids will only lend more problems – the subjects' strength will increase exponentially, but their emotions and personality will be extremely unbalanced. Not to mention the long-term effects," she responded incredulously.

Plutarch nodded resolutely. "I want you to begin immediately. Find a way to eliminate the long-term effects as best you can. I have already drafted a list of which subjects you may do your testing on and which must have the final product. It should be in your inbox," he ordered, beginning to walk away.

"Sir!" Theta called. Plutarch paused and turned to look at her expectantly. "It is my professional opinion as a doctor and scientist that these subjects be woken up and allowed to regain their strength the natural way," she said as she drew out her tablet device – allowing her to access her inbox.

Plutarch smiled disarmingly at the woman. "I agree completely, Dr. Yule. But we don't have that kind of time. Some of these subjects have been dead for more than thirty years – it would take years before they were ready. And-"

"We only have six months," Theta interrupted with a sigh. "I will take care of it, Head Game-Maker." she said resignedly.

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><p><strong>Again, I wish to thank you for your reviews and support. I haven't gotten very much done lately, story-wise, but we are still ahead of schedule and I am seeing a light at the end of the tunnel (of schoolwork, for the time-being, that is). I've been cranking out Lesson Plans like no-one's business.<strong>

**Please keep on keeping on - review.**

**Suz**


	5. Chapter 5

**Team **by **Lorde**

_Dancin' around the lies we tell_

_Dancin' around big eyes as well_

_Even the comatose they don't dance and tell_

**Panem et Circuses**

**Chapter 5**

_The Victory Tour_

Katniss and Peeta were ill at ease when the train arrived at the station in District 4. They weren't sure how they would be received – especially with the flowery, fake speech Effie Trinket wanted them to read.

It was even more uncomfortable when the Victors stood at a podium before a sea of jeering citizens, all of whom had been forced to attend this event. Under screens bearing the fallen tributes' portraits were platforms built to raise the tribute's family from the crowd.

The platform before the screen bearing Kai Rive's portrait held only two people – who Katniss and Peeta assumed to be his parents. The Rives were solemn and calm, but there was no love in their eyes for Katniss or Peeta.

The Victors knew that Winnow Fontanne had no family, so they were surprised to see two men standing on her platform. Both were handsome and young, but one of the men was distinctly Capitolian in style. The Capitolian wore red from head to toe and constantly dabbed at watering eyes with a white handkerchief. The other man was clearly native to District 4; tall, muscular and brooding – his hateful gaze scalding – forcing the Victors to avoid his gaze.

After Peeta had delivered the flowery speech Effie had written, Katniss spoke up. "I didn't know Winnow very well, but it is safe to say that we never saw eye to eye," she began, her mouth suddenly dry. "But she always seemed to know what I was thinking. She was always one step ahead. I admired her very much," Katniss offered – hoping it might comfort the angry loved ones that stood on Winnow's platform.

When she looked up, she saw that the glaring man's expression had only turned more spiteful. That was when Peeta decided to speak – redirecting attention from his partner to himself. "I know I don't deserve to even say her name… but Winnow helped me. I'll never forget that. And I'll never get over having a hand in her death. All I can say is… I'm sorry." Peeta confessed.

It was after those words that the two Victors were ushered back inside the Justice Building where Haymitch and Effie waited for them. The latter smothered the teenagers with affection and praised their words, while Haymitch merely knocked back a tumbler-full of some noxious alcohol.

"You did alright," the drunken mentor said after a long moment. "We weren't expecting any fanfare here, that's fer sure… But you managed to _not_ turn the crowd into a mob, and that's always a victory, I say," Haymitch rambled on.

"Effie," Katniss said, interrupting Haymitch's words with a roll of her eyes. "Who were the men standing on Winnow's platform? I thought she didn't have any family," the dark-haired teenager asked.

Haymitch guffaws at her, while Peeta and Effie look at Katniss in disbelief. "That's Finnick Odair, darlin'. The one that was looking at you like he wanted to spear ya? He was Winnow's mentor."

"He gave interviews about her during the Games – they were very close, like siblings," Effie interjected.

"You killed her, so I doubt he's a big fan of yours…" Haymitch added on, letting out a burp after a long draught from his glass.

Effie flashed the older man a look of disgust. "But to be in the family's box… Who was the other man?" Peeta asked.

"Pyrrhus Reed, District 4's escort. As you said, Winnow had no family, but she apparently made quite an impression." Effie answered. "Pyrrhus is a lovely man," she added brightly – for no apparent reason.

Katniss muttered lowly under her breath. Everyone seemed to be telling her how similar she and Winnow were in nature – except that the latter had the talent with people that Katniss apparently lacked. Haymitch leaned forward in his seat suddenly, his drink sloshing dangerously. "Oh, honey, you don't get it, do you? They _hate_ you here. They hate you in District 2, too. They hate you in just about every district except 12, 11, and 8. Everyone else, they got behind the idea of Career lovers. And when those two died, Districts Two and Four rioted for days." Haymitch informed her – making Katniss' eyes widen with fright.

"And unlike the uprising in District 11, the Capitol didn't mind the riots here. You wanna know why?" the older man continued, leaning ever more forward towards the teenager.

"Why?" Peeta asked honestly.

Haymitch plopped back into his seat, taking a steady drink. "They didn't mind because the riots weren't about them. Weren't against them. The riots were about _you_. They wanted _your_ blood, not the Capitol's. And face it, honey – the Capitol's got it out for you."

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><p>Two days later they were in District 2. The atmosphere there was even more stifling – every citizen looked at them with such loathing. Katniss and Peeta couldn't have cared less about whether they hated them or not.<p>

But it was the woman who stood on the platform beneath Cato's portrait that finally got to Katniss. Judging by her appearance, the woman had to be Cato's mother, Servilia. The age was right – as well as her features. She was tall, fit and blonde – just like her son. But it was her eyes that affected Katniss so strongly.

Servilia's grey eyes were blank and dull – like there was nothing behind her eyes but despair. Katniss knew that look well. It was the same expression her mother had held for years after Katniss' father had died.

It wasn't until Peeta began speaking that some life came into Servilia's eyes. Her eyes moistened – but it took only a moment to put herself back together. Servilia drew herself up, stiffened her upper lip – a slight tremor of her bottom lip betrayed her, but the woman steeled herself and fixed her gaze upon Katniss and Peeta.

Servilia showed no emotion as she listened to Peeta's speech. Once he had delivered the last line of Effie's speech, Cato's mother looked away – wrapping her arms around herself. At the subtle sign of anguish, Peeta quickly came up with something to say – something that he hoped might console Servilia Elestren in her time of grief.

"I respected Cato." he began. Servilia's head spun, turning an incredulous expression to them. "He was our strongest competitor. And he was even stronger with Winnow. They were a true team. In different circumstances, I hope we could have been friends." Peeta sighed, searching for the right words.

Katniss interrupted with comforting words of her own. "In District 12, we don't learn a lot about the inner districts – especially Districts 1 and 2 – and they're not usually painted in a flattering light." she paused – watching the crowd bristle before her and see her comment had not been well-received.

"But Cato… he broke the mold that we thought was set. He was no typical Career – and I think he was the one of the best tributes to come out of District 2… because he was _so_ much more than a killer. So much more than we expected him to be," Katniss explained carefully. She did not want to offend them – not when she was trying so hard to appease the people from District 2.

"What we're trying to say-" Peeta interjected before Katniss could think of anything else to say. "-is that somehow luck was on our side in the arena, and we made it out alive. But we will never forget those we fought beside or against… we will do our best to honor their memory for the rest of our lives."

While Clove's parents and Servilia were similarly unmoved by Peeta's words, the rest of the crowd there started to clap. For the first time since they had entered the innermost districts, Katniss and Peeta were treated to smiling faces – and an idea of what life in those districts might be like.

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><p><strong>AN: That's right! An early post! I'm in a good mood - pretty sure I aced a college algebra exam and I am feeling peppy! I'm also trying to step up the pace a bit, get things moving. There are two more chapters left for **_Panem et Circuses,_** and I've completed two for** _Saltwater Sting_,** so we're up four chapters. Honestly, I'm trying to complete this project right so I can turn to my original work. I'm hoping to see this project done by the end of 2014. Or at least completed/ready to post. **

**Please keeping reviewing - I am getting such quality reviews that I'm seriously on a high from the response- keep it up for me and I'll keep it up for you.**

**Love, Suz.**


	6. Chapter 6

Betaread by gkmoberg1

**Seven Devils **by**Florence + the Machine**

_Seven devils all around you_

_Seven devils in my house_

_See they were there when I woke up this morning_

_I'll be dead before the day is done_

**Panem et Circuses**

**Chapter 6**

_District 4_ – _Victor's Village_

It had been a… bearable day for Finnick. So far, at least. Annie had come to spend the day with him at his house in Victor's Village. It was a good day for Annie – she was remarkably lucid and talkative today. But it wasn't so good for Finnick.

He had woken up in a dark mood – and while Annie's presence was a bright spot in the day – it was the only one. Finnick had had nightmares of the people he had killed rising from the dead and coming after him – and somehow, Winnow had appeared. She had jumped in front of Finnick to shield him from a mortal blow. She had died in his arms. Finnick had woken crying.

Annie had noticed his distress the moment he had opened the door to let her in. And it took only a few moments for her to wheedle the story out of him. It was a relief, sort-of, to talk about it. It would have been painful if Annie didn't understand so completely. Her district partner had died in defense of her, so she knew all too well the sort of pain a dream like that could bring.

Now Annie wandered Finnick's living room idly as she always did – letting her fingers trail over each surface. She paused at the sight of a new decoration. The picture frame Finnick had taken from Winnow's home.

"I wish I could have known her," Annie remarked, tracing the fragile frame. Her words drew Finnick's attention – his gaze fixing on the picture frame from where he sat in an overstuffed armchair, legs splayed wide. "The way you talk about her – you must have really cared about her." she murmured.

Finnick sighed, rubbing his hands over his face in an attempt to clear his head. "I did – I do. She was so… different. When I met Winnow, she was ready to die. And she wasn't afraid." he answered quietly.

"She was afraid when she died." Annie said out of nowhere, eyes fixed on the picture frame. Finnick's face crumpled and he screwed his eyes shut. His eyes flew open instantly – finding that didn't help – for all he had seen behind his lids was the expression on Winnow's face when she lay dying. "I could see it in her eyes, Finnick." Annie added, turning towards him. She seemed surprised by the expression on his face.

Finnick stood and went to pour himself a drink. "I know." he said flatly, before gulping down a tumbler-full of hard alcohol.

"Why are you upset, Finnick?" Annie questioned honestly. He looked over at her incredulously – before shaking his head and pouring himself another drink. He crossed the room to sit back in his chair. "Finnick?" she asked.

"Because I don't _want_ to think about it, Annie!" Finnick snapped. Annie flinched at the anger in his voice and his expression abruptly changed. The depression and anger disappeared, replaced by regret and a plea for forgiveness.

Annie sighed and moved towards him, climbing into his lap. Finnick twisted his fingers into her long red hair – sighing in relief when Annie lay her head on his shoulder. She plucked the glass from his hand and set it aside. "It's been almost a year since she died, Finnick. You need to accept it." she advised.

"_How_?" Finnick questioned softly. "She trusted _me_ to get her through the Games, Annie. She died scared and in pain. How can I get over that?" he said, his voice hitching in the very beginning. Forcing the rest of the words out had been difficult.

Annie bit her lip, trying to decide whether or not to tell him the truth. "She _chose_ it, Finnick." she said softly. Finnick shook his head. "You heard what she said. She didn't want to live without him," Annie said.

Finnick scowled, his fingers tightening in her hair to an almost painful grip. "I _know_. Because we weren't enough," he muttered. Annie didn't answer, merely wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer. Finnick let her try and comfort him – but he knew he was well beyond that.

Finnick knew he had to accept that Winnow was gone. But he couldn't – not yet. He needed more time. The thought was too painful – and while he tried to avoid it, the thought was always there. Sometimes it was just a little whisper at the back of his mind, but sometimes it felt as if it was being screamed at him.

He had begged Winnow to survive and she had chosen not to. Finnick was sure that she could have turned it all around and _won_ if she had been determined to. But that stupid boy from District 2, Cato – he had ruined everything. Managed to make Winnow fall in love.

Winnow had done a 180. Before she had met Cato, she had been resigned to dying. After Finnick, she had decided she wanted to survive. Only to say that she couldn't live without Cato at the end. Winnow had given Finnick such hope only to yank it away.

Finnick and Annie stayed entwined for a long time. It wasn't until the phone rang that they were forced to get up. He gave a heavy sigh and squeezed out from beneath Annie and rose to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"_Oh, Finny-kins, I have just heard the **most** tantalizing tidbit of my life!"_ A shrill voice that Finnick immediately recognized as Octavia Templesmith – the middle-aged daughter of the infamous Claudius.

He knew exactly what she would want in return for her secret. As he looked at Annie, he knew it better be worth his time. "Pique my interest, Octavia." Finnick requested.

_"As if you could refuse me!"_ Octavia giggled – making the man stiffen. Oh no, he couldn't – but Octavia thought it because she was desirable. He had already lost his mother for refusing Capitolian lovers – he wouldn't lose anyone more. "_I heard some whispers about the Quarter Quell… details that you absolutely need to hear…"_ she added – trying on a sensual voice that only made her voice even squawkier.

"You've got my attention," Finnick said reluctantly. Even if it was something totally unimportant – it might help him to help his tributes. And he couldn't pass that up.

"_Oh, wonderful. What a relief – I'm already on the train to District 4."_ Octavia gasped out. He ground his teeth at her presumptuousness.

"Shouldn't I come to you?" Finnick asked, turning away from Annie so she might not hear his words. He didn't like to have his _lovers_ in his home. Not where Annie and Mags came to see him.

Octavia was quiet for a moment – putting Finnick on high alert. "_It's safer this way, Finny-kins."_ she said quietly.

Finnick considered her words for a long moment. Whatever Octavia had stumbled upon… it had to be huge. "Thank you, Octavia." he responded simply.

At his words, the giggly Octavia was suddenly back. "_Anything for you, Finny-kins! I'll see you tomorrow,"_ she responded before hanging up the phone.

Finnick put the phone back down on the receiver, quiet and thoughtful. "What was it, Finnick?" Annie asked from where he had left her – in the armchair.

"Nothing to concern yourself with," Finnick answered quickly, swooping towards her to press a kiss to her forehead. "Just a little business I'll need to attend to tomorrow," he half-lied.

This business with Octavia could be quite dangerous for him – and he had to make sure he was the only one taking a risk. Annie and anyone he cared about could not be involved.

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><p><strong>AN: I want to thank you all for your response as well as your support. I'll have you know - I got a 74/75 on my test, the highest score in my class ( and all of my Professor's courses in College Algebra). So here's your next update! Gosh, do you guys see a pattern here?! Happy Suz equals more frequent updates.**

**One more chapter left to Panem Et Circuses. Review, Please.**


	7. Chapter 7

Betaread by gkmoberg1

**For Everything a Reason **by**Carina Round**

_Don't call me back, I had everything I needed_

_For every lie, honey, the truth lay underneath it_

_Oh so they say baby, for everything a reason_

_And so they say baby, you will be brought…_

_…brought back to me_

**Panem et Circuses**

**Chapter 7**

Artemisia had been nervous to learn that she had been assigned a new mission that was not within her normal parameters as a stylist. She had received a message - a brief missive signed by the Head Game-maker Plutarch Heavensbee himself.

Peacekeepers had come to her very door to escort her to the meeting that would supposedly explain it all. Artemisia had dressed carefully for the meeting – she of all people knew how much a person's look could convey.

Her scarlet hair was bound into a severe bun and her make-up was politely neutral. She had decided on practical wear, donning a light green pantsuit and a silver pair of kitten-heels. Before leaving her apartment, Artemisia had been instructed by the Peacekeepers to leave all communication devices at home.

At once, she was deeply suspicious. But the Peacekeepers had insisted on watching her lay out her devices on a table before allowing her to leave.

Now she sat in a cramped room with twenty-two other confused Capitolians. At precisely 2:30 in the afternoon, Plutarch Heavensbee strolled in. "Greetings, friends. I'm glad to see everyone received the missive." the man said pleasantly.

Artemisia's face scrunched up at his words. As if they had had a choice in coming? Not with two Peacekeepers outside her door demanding her presence. "Each of you have been handpicked by myself for this mission." Plutarch began. "This year is a very special year – the 3rd Quarter Quell. President Snow wanted something big, and I intend to deliver."

"And what, exactly, do you intend for us to do?" Someone asked.

"It is your job to care for the subjects assigned to you. It is very important to President Snow and all of the Gamemakers that the subjects receive the best care possible and are at their best by the time the Quarter Quell begins." Plutarch answered.

"Now, this mission requires the utmost secrecy. President Snow considers the slightest discretion treason. Know that if this mission is made public, the culprit will be put to death." The Game-maker continued. As one of the men opened his mouth to say something, Heavensbee held up his hand. "-And no. You may not resign. The moment you sat down in this room, you no longer had any choice in the matter. So I advise you all to not breathe a word of your mission." he explained.

"But we were given no choice in coming here!" the same man complained.

Plutarch smiled at him. It was a shark's smile, Artemisia surmised. It was supposed to look pleasant, but it was really the man's way of saying 'shut up'. "You were handpicked for this mission. Consider it an honor – and your civil duty." Plutarch remarked.

The Head Game-maker waited a long moment – smiling and looking at each Capitolian. "You are dismissed. A peacekeeper will deliver you your assignment. You are to burn the file as soon as you have read it. Then you will be escorted to perform your first task." Plutarch said finally.

The others, including Artemisia, stood up and began to file out one-by-one, each handed a file by a Peacekeeper standing outside the room. Before Artemisia could escape, Plutarch stood in her way. "Artemisia, stay a moment." he requested patiently.

Artemisia immediately stopped moving – and allowed the others to move past her. When the others had all gone, the Peacekeeper outside shut the door after a nod from Plutarch. "Have I done something wrong, Head Game-maker?" Artemisia asked meekly.

The man let out a warm laugh, and gestured to the seats. Plutarch and Artemisia sat again at the table. "No. In fact, my faith in you is so great that I have assigned you two subjects." he remarked.

Artemisia looked alarmed. "Sir, I'm not sure I can perform to your satisfaction with two subjects," she protested.

Plutarch shook his head, producing a file. "I think you'll find the subjects are a two-for-one package. I'm sure you'll enjoy them." he responded, sliding the file to her. He watched as she opened it and began to read through the contents.

The file only included general information of what she was supposed to do – prepare the subjects for entry into the arena for the Quarter Quell. And two names stamped at the top. Two very familiar names. Artemisia looked up to Plutarch in shock.

He just smiled pleasantly in response. "Have you finished reading?" Plutarch asked. Artemisia managed to nod in response. He pulled the file from her grasp and drew a lighter from his pocket. He lit the corner of the file aflame, and dropped it into a wastebasket. "The Peacekeeper outside will escort you to your first subject," he said and motioned for her to leave.

Artemisia stood up slowly, and left the room. "Miss Artemisia, please follow me," the Peacekeeper at the door requested. She followed in a daze, vainly trying to remember all the twists and turns that brought her to the door in front of her. "Your first subject is inside, Miss. And your second is one door down on the right." the man directed her.

Artemisia took a measured step towards the first door, reaching for the handle. She looked to the Peacekeeper, who offered a firm nod. She turned the handle and pushed the door open slowly. The moment Artemisia had stepped inside – finding her subject lying in bed - the Peacekeeper took hold of the handle and closed the door.

Pale blue eyes fluttered open at the noise, blinking several times to clear her sight. Then she began to survey the room – with clinically white walls and floors, passing over Artemisia without a reaction. She tried to raise her hands to rub her eyes and found the movement impeded. She looked down to her hands and found one cuffed to the rails on the right side of her body.

"…Winnow?!"

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><p><strong>I want to thank all the readers that have continued on with me so far. This is the final chapter of <strong>_Panem et circuses._ **The first chapter of **_Saltwater Sting_ **is up, as promised. Love ya, Suz.**

**Please Review.**


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